To all of my loyal and adoring fans out there*, sorry for the lengthy delay between posts. After returning to D.C., I fully planned on blogging about the fourth farm, but I was just really busy. I mean, I had not watched SportsCenter in two months and I had even forgot how amazing it feels waking up late in a real bed. But more on that in a minute, now it’s time to turn our attention to farm number four: Sweet River Farm.
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| Just look at that tasty, Sweet River green bean! |
As was the case with our first two stops, “farm” might be a little bit of a misnomer. Sweet River is more of a very large, family garden that provides organic food for the family of eight - a grandmother, two parents and kids ranging from sixteen to two - throughout the summer, fall and, through careful food preservation skills, winter months. Located along the Trinity River in the Hoopa Reservation in northern California**, the garden produces a variety of vegetables, many of which we had seen on our previous farm (kale, tomatoes, carrots, chard, beans, etc.), as well as a range of fruits. I never realized the true awesomeness of having fruit trees; whenever we were hungry, we would just walk outside and pick an apple off the tree (except it was hard to find apples without wormholes), or pick a couple figs (however, picking figs requires climbing into the fig tree canopy, which is really fun and one of the most exciting jobs that I did on the whole trip, but not really easy) or pick a pomegranate (there is nothing difficult with picking pomegranates - they are incredibly tasty). We ate a lot of pomegranates.
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Our humble abode - note
the tarp which effectively
kept us dry |
We ate a lot of pomegranates partly because they were really ripe and sweet, and partly because they taste good without salt. I did not try a pomegranate with salt, for that is impossible at Sweet River. Time for some back story: a couple years ago Rachel was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer at 35***. From my understanding, it initially required an aggressive surgery, but instead of using pharmaceutical drugs in her recovery, Rachel went to a clinic in Mexico to get started on Gerson Therapy. This form of therapy is a super, incredible, unbelievable diet that consists only of juices - not tasty, Juicy Juice type juices, but instead vegetable puree type juices - and supposedly detoxes one’s body of all the nasty, potentially cancerous toxins that accumulate after years of eating processed food. Upon returning from Mexico, Rachel incorporated the Gerson principles into her diet, eliminating processed foods, cooked oil and salt, despite how tasty they might be. Fun fact: food tastes better with salt. Second fun fact: Reed and I really missed salt.
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AT&T Park
Game 2 |
Although we came past the prime of the growing and harvesting season, as with all farms, there was always work to be done at Sweet River. Some days we spent splitting fire wood, other days we spent picking dry beans. But on all days we tackled the mountain of dishes that a family of 11 (the eight I mentioned earlier, plus the three WWOOFers) produces, regardless of the lack of soap. Despite sleeping in a tent, our fourth farm was the closest resemblance to my home from our trip, and thus caused my first bout of homesickness. I found myself missing everything from my dog and parents, to toilet paper, my toaster and competition^. I never thought that I was the type to get homesick, but man was I homesick. Although this trip has taken me all over the west coast and deepened my appreciation of travel, one of the biggest takeaways for me is the importance of home.
Before flying out of San Francisco, Reed and I made a pit stop at the World Series, then spent a wonderful night playing ping pong, eating burgers and catching up with Daniel Allen at Stanford. I spent the whole next day giddy with excitement to finally see my parents and sleep in my own bed.
After 45 days of farming, traveling and peeing outside, I was finally home. Home, sweet home.
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| Bye Bye WWOOFing |
* Mom and Dad
** More specifically, Sweet River is located Humbolt County: (unbeknownst to Reed and I when we made arrangements with this farm) pot capital of the US. Although the title might self-proclaimed, marijuana certainly is a big thing around those parts. The Humboolt County College mascot is the Buds. When we first arrived, obviously dressed as travelers, we were mistaken by a fellow at the bus stop to be helpers for the “harvest.” It commonplace to smoke on the side of the road with no fear of police interference; a couple behind Reed and I even smoked on the moving greyhound bus. Good ol Humbolt County.
*** Rachel is not her real name.
^Reed and I found ourselves getting really invested in the only source of competition: the children's star chart. We would get stars whenever we did something good.
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| The competitive stage |
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| Close up of the winner's tallies |
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